Daphne fidgeted, trying to sit so the Swarovski crystals on the bodice of her dress didn't scratch her arms. When Giovana, stylist to award-winning actor Gustavo Bellone, had shown her this option, Daphne had instantly fallen in love. The dress was too flashy for most events she attended as a working royal, but it was perfect for celebrating Gustavo's nomination, and for their red-carpet debut as an engaged couple.
"The color is great on you," the stylist reminded her, glancing up from her phone to inspect her charge again. "You've never gone wrong with a gold dress. Remember the state dinner with your father? Those photos were everywhere."
Daphne had to concede the point. She had also been a teenager. "This isn't my event, though. It's Gustavo's."
The stylist sighed. "Darling, you are engaged. His moment is your moment. You need to get over wanting someone else to steal your limelight all the time."
Daphne bristled. She always appreciated people being honest with her, but she was starting to wonder if Giovana enjoyed throwing her back on her heels. She wanted to argue but stopped herself — this was her fiancé's night, and he didn't need any additional stress — and settled for an exaggerated eye roll that would have given her grandmother heart palpitations. It wasn't worth it tonight.
Giovana sighed and walked over, putting her hands on her shoulders. "Regardless, you look beautiful. No one will talk about anything except you and this dress tonight."
The problem was that, despite their combined decades of experience preparing for events, neither of them had factored in the limo ride. Daphne navigated the short walk from Giovana's studio to the waiting black SUV without incident. Gustavo held out his hand to steady her as the crystals on her dress resisted sliding across the dark leather seats. Finally clear of the door, Daphne took a deep breath and perched on the seat, allowing the stylist and her assistant to arrange her skirt around her feet to achieve the fewest possible wrinkles. Gustavo reached over and covered her hand in his. "I think you're more nervous than I am."
Daphne turned as much as she could to look at him without impaling herself on her dress, but the words died on her tongue. Always handsome, her future husband looked especially dashing tonight in his classic black tux and white shirt. He'd allowed his hair to grow since filming had wrapped, and the curls he'd inherited from his father lay perfectly. But it was the way he was looking at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world, that stopped her in her tracks. She blinked hard, willing her words to return, but the moment evaporated.
Gustavo chuckled, the warm, throaty sound that always made her feel near him even when he was filming far away. "I'll tell Giovana that you approve of her choices for tonight."
That broke the spell. Daphne smacked him on one arm. "You're incredibly arrogant to assume that your good looks rendered me speechless."
He grinned. "It was my good looks or your dress. I figured I'd highlight the positive since you're going to spend several more hours in that thing."
Daphne groaned. "Don't remind me. Twenty-six years of dressing for events and I still picked a dress that might cause bodily harm." She was beginning to wonder if she would ever get used to red carpets.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You look beautiful. Don't worry. I'll be right here with you."
Daphne nodded and squeezed his hand in appreciation as the limo pulled to a stop in front of the curb. He climbed out of the far side of the car. Fans' roar of approval was audible even through the double-paned glass on the windows. Daphne took a deep breath, willing herself into the calm, poised state that her etiquette teachers had drilled into her from a young age. Unfortunately, her training had never covered the constant media frenzy that came with dating the world's most eligible actor.
Gustavo opened the door for her, and she stepped out in a perfectly orchestrated movement. If her brain wouldn't work, her muscle memory certainly would. She emerged to a new fury of camera flashes as every media outlet tried to get a picture of them. Gustavo pulled her close, his hand resting on the small of her back. Daphne's face snapped into the practiced smile she always wore for public functions, and she actively ignored the musky scent of his cologne and the goosebumps it sent up her arms.
They lingered for a long moment before Gustavo took her hand and led her further down the carpet.
Reporters from what felt like every country stymied their progress every few steps. Daphne stayed out of the way as Gustavo answered questions about his months in the jungle filming his most recent action movie. This was her favorite part of dating him: For the first time in her entire life, people cared less about her than they did about him. The Princess of Montrovia, twin sister to the future King, was nothing more than politically interesting arm candy when Gustavo Bellone was nearby.
And she loved every second.
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The Elite (Romantic Suspense)
Storie d'amore"Keep your head down," he said. "I don't like what's going on in there." Daphne leaned forward until she was almost bent in half, cheek pressed against the satin skirt of her gown. "What is happening in there?" she managed after a moment. And who ar...
